


Dragon Fire

by writingdetritus



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fire, Smaug - Freeform, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingdetritus/pseuds/writingdetritus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug attacks Dale and Erebor and Dís is in the midst of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is more movie verse than the book because I have Balin and Dwalin in this. Though I did try to write the characters to somewhat their right ages... Dwarf aging is very confusing for me...

“Thorin!” Dís whined, swinging from her brother’s arm. “Play with me!”

“No sister!” Thorin said, trying his best to ignore his little sister. “Go find Frerin if you are so desperate.”

Dís tossed her black curls over her shoulder, and stuck her tongue out at her brother. He had grown up much too fast, and Frerin wasn’t always too kind to his little sister either. He teased her all the time for having a human or even elfin face, and he would tickle her and ruffle her hair at the worst of times. She knew he was being a good older brother (more so than Thorin sometimes was) but it still annoyed her. Being a princess under the mountain wasn’t as wonderful as it sounded.

“But brother,” She said reproachfully, trying to lay the guilt down thickly. “You haven’t spent any time with me as of late!”

“I have important business to attend to,” He scowled down at her. He had recently received some responsibilities as the eldest son to Thrain.

“Am I not important enough for you?” Dís muttered, sticking her bottom lip out heavily, casting her dark eyes down and away from her brother.

Thorin ignored her and stalked off, leaving Dís to wander the passages by herself. She scuffed her small shoe against the cold stone, her arms folded, her hands tucked underneath her arms – a habit she had picked up from watching her father when he was particularly annoyed about something. All she wanted to do was have a little fun. So many dwarves in the Mountain, and yet not many children. Most of them lived outside the mountain with their small families, up on the hillside in the windy forests.

She began to skip, trying to land on the line between tiles on the glistening floor, and suddenly arms were around her small waist as her brother Frerin picked her up with a growling whoop! and swung her around in a tight circle. Dís giggled, closing her eyes to keep from becoming too dizzy.

“Sister, I haven’t seen you all day!” Frerin said, somewhat reproachfully but smiling all the same.

“I was trying to get Thorin to play with me, but all he does is ignore me nowadays,” Dís pouted to her brother. Frerin was fine and all to have as a companion, but Thorin was so much older, so much more to look up to.

“Well, why don’t we ignore the old dwarf and head down to the town,” Frerin suggested, pinching his sister’s cheek.

Laughing, Dís pushed him away, “Stop! – and Thorin’s only five years your elder!”

“Which makes him all the more old and bothersome!” Frerin grasped his sister’s hand, and dragged her down the hallways.

Frerin was as tall as Thorin, but much resembled the siblings grandfather Thror – a very traditional dwarven look. Thorin was much like their father, Thrain, tall, dark and brooding. Dís looked much like Thorin, but entirely different at the same time. She had the lightest mood of the three of them, it seemed the traditional glower had skipped her, and she was only left with the majesties of the Durin Folk (even for a youth). Though her brother’s prided themselves on the length of their black hair, Dís beat them all even at such a young age. Her hair was thick, black and reached almost to her hips. But she was much more fair-faced than most dwarf girls her age, and many mistook her for a human child if she was not in the presence of a royal convoy. Which her brother’s reminded her about daily.

As Frerin dragged Dís out of Erebor and into the streets of Dale, she had to hike up her blue skirts and make sure she didn’t lose any of the baubles her handmaidens enjoyed weaving into her hair. The day was perfect, the sun blazed down, but the heat never reached them as a pleasant breeze through the trees of the Mountain and down into Dale, where kites were flying high, sparkling in the sunlight.

“Here we are sister; choose where you would like to go!” Frerin said stopping and looking down at Dís. She clutched at his hand.

She paused, letting her skirts drop a bit as she surveyed her surroundings. “Market! Let’s go to the market!” She cried greedily, and began to pull her brother along. Being a dwarf under the Mountain meant you were quite well off, but being a princess… well Dís knew she could obtain anything that caught her fancy.

The pair of them were quick on their feet as they ran the Dístance to the bustling market. The market was a sight to see – stalls everywhere, fruit falling to the ground, silks fluttering in the wind, sweet scents of exotic spices, and the tinkle of bells from a toy stall down the way. Dís wanted to look at it all, to run her small hands through the fabrics, to taste the honeys of the mountainside, to listen to a song from a traveling bard.

They split, Frerin moving over to a weapons stall, glancing over the many swords and knives. Of course Frerin wouldn’t buy anything that was a weapon from these stalls – the best dwarf smiths would make him anything he requested, but he enjoyed glancing over the work. Dís ran over to the exotic stalls, where spices and coffee had been imported from far off lands. A man with brown skin handed her a bit of dried fruit and it was amazing as she bit into it. She thanked him before twirling back over to her brother.

“Brother, brother, brother, we must have the entire basket of this fruit!” She said, tossing Frerin the other half of the dried fruit. He tried it and grinned down at her.

“I do say, I completely agree,” Frerin said.

The morning went on like this, the pair of them sampling each stall, Díscovering new and interesting things, meeting old and new friends. Most Dale commoner’s knew who they were, and had no issue in giving a taste of this and that to the Prince and Princess under the mountain, because if the pair of them so desired, the entire stock would be sold in less than five minutes. Very good for business. But the new comers, the traders passing through were sold by the shining silver in Dís’ hair, and the gleaming hilt of the sword on Frerin’s hip. They could see from the fine clothes on their backs, these dwarflings were far from poor.

After receiving a sweet from Harlond – an old wizened man that was always very kind to her – Dís skipped back to her brother, but instead ran headlong into another dwarf. Gasping, she looked up to see who she had run into.

“Och, Princess, you had best watch where you are goin’,” Dwalin said, his mouth crooking into a grin and he rubbed his large hand on her head. Dís hugged his waist.

“I didn’t know you had returned!” She cried excitedly. “Frerin! Mister Dwalin has returned!” Frerin turned and his face broke into a grin. Dwalin and Frerin were good friends, just as Thorin and Balin were.

“Aye I have, and am returning to the Mountain,” He said, hitting Frerin on the back with a closed fist, grinning at him. “Would you two be so kind as to escort me back?” He roared with laughter as both Dís and Frerin bowed, gesturing him to move before them.

They walked back to the Mountain, Dís and Frerin talking excitedly about all that had happened since Dwalin had last been there, and as it became painfully obvious – not much. But the pair of them twisted and turned the tales on their heads. Dwalin’s usually stern face was softened by the young one’s laughter

“And what of your grandfather?” Dwalin asked, curiously after the tale seemed to be finished.

“Oh,” Frerin suddenly became serious, his face falling a bit, and Dís – who had yet to even start understanding what was actually wrong with her grandfather, knew it was never good news. “He has become overcome with a sickness. A sickness for gold.”

“Hm,” The sound came from the back of Dwalin’s throat. Dís grabbed onto his arm, letting him hold her weight.

“Did you see anything? On your travels?” She asked excitedly.

“Like what, princess?” Dwalin asked, raising a dirty eyebrow down at her as she swung.

“Oh I don’t know… Orcs? Goblins? Dragons?” She dropped from his arm and ran around him to look up into his face. He bent down and picked her up, setting her on his hip as he walked.

“Well I don’t know about Dragons and Orcs, but I certainly saw some of those nasty goblins down in their slimy holes,” He tweaked her nose and winked at Frerin.

“Did you kill any, Mister Dwalin?” Dís asked excitedly.

“Now now princess, why would you think that?” Dwalin grinned at her, and she reached up to touch his beard with curiosity.

“Because you are the strongest, bravest warrior ever!” She proclaimed loudly.

“I wouldn’t let any of your family member’s hear that,” Dwalin laughed, grinning over at Frerin who rolled his eyes upwards. “Aye, I did kill some, and I retrieved a mighty fine amount of gold for my trouble!”

Frerin and Dís both mouthed, ‘wow’ silently. They finally reached Erebor’s gates and Dwalin set Dís down and they walked back into the Mountain’s great gates, but suddenly Dís stopped, rubbing her fingers together.

“Oh no!” She cried, looking about herself. “I dropped my ring!” She wailed, turning about in a circle. Frerin glanced at her and then back at Dwalin. “Do you want me to go looking with you?” Frerin asked, but Dís knew he wanted to spend time with the older dwarf. She wouldn’t begrudge him that.

“No, I’ll just run back,” She said, and turned running out the door as fast as her small legs would let her. Back in town, Dís walked slowly, her head down, looking for any glint. Every once in a while she thought she saw it, but only to discover it was a coin or a piece of tinsel. She walked like this for a while, when suddenly a horrendous roar ripped through the air.

Looking up quickly, Dís saw something flying in the sky, something red, huge and breathing fire down onto Dale.

Dís _screamed._

She mostly screamed to alert other’s around her, not because she was frightened. She was indeed scared though, her hands shaking as she grabbed onto her many skirts, but her head was clear and one thing stuck out in her mind. Find her brothers.

But the streets were boiling over now with humans and dwarves, all trying to escape the narrow and trapping alleys. Children dropped toys, women scattered their wares, and able bodied men pulled out their weapons, ready for the attack that had already started. Dís kept pushing legs out of her way, trying to move as fast as she could back to Erebor, but people paid little attention to her, and she felt her dress rip and her she fell onto the ground, her hands splaying out on the ground trying to steady herself.

Blaring heat scorched her face as Dragon Fire lit many a shop on fire. Dís yelled out, covering her face with her arms. She couldn’t breathe as well, and she felt her side kicked as more people rushed past – blinded by smoke and fear. She would be trampled to death before any fire reached her, for sure!

When Dís finally stood (the streets were clearing, though the noise was deafening), she couldn’t see very well, her eyes stinging. Black smoke roiled around her, and she sucked the fowl air into her lungs and choked. Her head swam, and she felt like she was about to faint, but she stepped forward slowly, her hand against the stone wall beside her, feeling her way out of the city. She could hear screaming, roaring, crying all around her. Her own tears, from fear and the smoke, rolled down her cheeks, smearing the black soot only to be replaced with more.

Suddenly there was a horrible sound of screeching metal, crumbling rock and a thunderous clap, and Dís realized that the Dragon had broken down the gates of Erebor and was sieging the only home she had known. She grabbed at her ears, trying to make the noise less, but it kept building, more screams and she imagined her people falling to their deaths from this horrible wyrm.

“Thorin!” She screamed into the black oily smoke. “Frerin!” She choked but began to run, towards the noise of the Dragon’s echoing roars, the clash of more metal falling, of stone crashing.

Dís tripped on a strange object and fell onto a dead man’s chest. His blood coated her small hands. Dís stared at her hands in horror and terror, coughing and spluttering, before wiping them on her blue gown – now completely ruined. She had to keep moving, she would think on this matter later. She needed to find her brothers.

However, after a few more steps, she collapsed again. Her body was shaking for want of clean air, and she was starting to see black spots in her vision. No one noticed the little princess fall to the ground, her head hitting the cobbled stone street hard.

She reached out and grasped onto the ring she had just found, laying in a crack in the cobblestones. It was the rings fault. It had brought her back here, away from her kinfolk. The tears continued to spill down her nose as she gasped – a fish out of water.

She lay there for only a few moments, though it felt like hours, when suddenly strong arms wrapped around her, and lifted her up. At first she thought it was Frerin, returned to her to play games in the black air. She could no longer see, but as she weakly grasped onto long strands of hair she realized it was her brother Thorin.

“Tho-“ she began, not even sure what she was going to say.

“Quiet child,” He murmured, his voice muffled covered by cloth. He roared something to other people in the black fog, and Dís clung to him as dearly as she clung to life.

“Thorin,” She choked out, her face buried in his shoulder. “I am important enough to you.”

She felt Thorin’s hand grasp at the back of her head, and she could feel him shaking. He was just as scared as she was, but he had to put a strong face forward – he was the eldest and an heir to the throne after all. He clutched at her as they ran through the burning streets of Dale, and he whispered into her hair, “You are the most important thing, my little light.” And then she was coughing up blood, and Dís collapsed into unconsciousness on her brother’s shoulder.

They made it out of the Dragon Fires, her entire family that she had known and grown up with. But they were shattered and scattered across the lands of Middle Earth and she didn’t know how they would ever put the pieces back together. But if her family stayed near, her world would slowly be repaired if only to be a mirror image of what it had been before. But through all the tribulations, and misfortunes the Durin line suffered, Thorin was never far from his sister again for many a year.

**Author's Note:**

> ok I'm really really really not happy with the whole Dale on fire scene (I'm usually so good at drama writing!!) so I do apologize for that. Otherwise, enjoy!


End file.
